


A Piece of My Mind

by Toastiel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Donna Hanscum/Chuck Shurley - Freeform, Gen, Hurt!Sam, Hurt/Comfort, angry!Donna, pre-Chonna, pre-Donna Hanscum/Chuck Shurley, sad!sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-15
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:06:02
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8851306
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Toastiel/pseuds/Toastiel
Summary: Donna know she's got the patience of a saint, but this isn't something she can abide.





	

Chuck had been staying at the bunker for several days, and while Donna tried her best to smile and be polite, the longer he was there the more irritated she became. At first it was the constant singing of folk songs all night. Then it was the way he hogged the showers. Then the way he hogged the coffee, and made a mess of the kitchen she’d spent several days cleaning and organizing. The final straw, though, was Sam.

 

She hadn’t intended to snoop. It had just sort of happened. The blonde had been heading back to her room from the showers when she’d heard the faint sounds coming from his bedroom. The door was closed, but she could still hear him and that meant he wasn’t even trying to keep quiet. The doors in the bunker were solid and damn near soundproof. She didn’t even hesitate when she reached for the knob and turned it. It wasn’t locked. 

 

“Sam?” She asked softly as she pushed it open a crack. “You alright, darlin’?”

 

The last thing she expected to find was the very large man curled up in a ball in the middle of his bed, crying and sobbing so hard his entire body shook with the force of it. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her, locking it for extra measure. She didn’t have to think about what she was doing as she sat on the edge of the bed and ran a soothing hand through his hair.

 

“Shhh,” Donna shushed him, hoping it might help him somehow. She didn’t know why he was crying, but she didn’t need to. In some ways, Sam was worse than Dean when it came to emotions. He’d bottle them up and push them down, pretending they didn’t exist, that he was fine and nothing was hurting. It all had to come out eventually, and it made her heart ache to think that this was the way he chose to let that happen. No one should be left alone to cry themselves to sleep over the shit they had been forced to go through in order to survive. 

 

She was so lost in her own musings that she didn’t notice he’d moved until he was wrapped around her like an overgrown koala, his head buried in her fuzzy purple bathrobe. She didn’t speak, or move except to wrap her arms around him in a show of comfort. His voice was so small and weak that she almost didn’t hear him speak at all.

 

“What was that, sweetie?”

 

“What’s wrong with me?” He spoke only slightly louder than before. 

 

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Sam.” She pulled back enough to look into his eyes. They were red and puffy, his cheeks blotchy and tear-stained. He sniffled softly and she couldn’t help but smile. He looked like a kid. Hell, he pretty much was a kid. “What on Earth are you talking about?”

 

“Go-Chuck...I-he...he just...ignored me. Years of praying and asking and begging. Years of believing in him…”he broke off as another sob ripped from his throat. “He heard every word of it and he just...ignored them all. Am I so messed up, so tainted, that he just doesn’t care?”

 

He was looking at her, eyes wide and searching, silently pleading with her to give him some kind of solid answer. She wished she could, but Donna couldn’t pretend to know what God was thinking, or why he did or didn’t do things. That wasn’t really her place. Donna had listened to the conversation the boys had had with Chuck that first night; she could hear the reverence in Sam’s voice when he spoke to him, and she could feel Dean’s pent up frustration in his words. Despite it all, Donna got the feeling that they both still seemed to hold on to some idea that he deserved their admiration and respect simply because he was God. Something about that felt off to her.

 

“You listen to me, Samuel Winchester, you are not tainted. Not in any way. You’ve got one of the biggest, purest hearts I’ve ever seen. You and your brother are the bravest people I’ve ever met and I don’t think I’ve ever come across anyone as smart or as generous as you. There ain’t a gosh darn thing wrong with you, you understand me? You’re a better person than most, and if he can’t see that, well then he can just go on to Hell. I’m sure he’d have a warm reception. I’m sure plenty of demons would love to try a bit of divine barbeque.”

 

Her heart fluttered when she heard Sam chuckle weakly. It was better than nothing. Donna pressed a kiss to his forehead and wiped his cheeks with the sleeve of her robe. “Now, why don’t you go on and get a nice hot shower? I’ll have a big mug of cocoa waiting for you when you get out, yeah? There ain’t a problem in this world that can’t be fixed by chocolate.”

 

Sam nodded and slowly untangled himself from her. She watched as he gathered clean pajamas and left the room, her smile bright until he turned the corner and was out of sight. Her eyes darkened, her smile fading as her jaw set into place. God or no, she was going to be having a very long chat with that man. She let out a huff and pushed herself to her feet. 

 

Donna left the room, heading towards the kitchen to fix a batch of hot chocolate. She was both delighted and annoyed to find the curly haired man at the stove, singing to himself as though nothing else existed. Maybe to him, nothing else did, but she refused to let that be an excuse for him.

 

Donna didn’t bother plastering on a bright smile. She was angry and she wanted him to know it. 

 

“Whatcha’ doin’?” She asked, her voice sickly sweet. He jumped slightly and she smirked. She’d caught him off guard, and she took a bit of pride in that. 

 

“Oh, um...hi,” He gave her a sheepish smile but it fell when he caught the murderous gaze in her eyes. “Everything...alright?” 

 

He seemed hesitant to ask, almost as though he knew the answer already, and he probably did. 

 

“No.” She shook her head, arms crossing over her chest. “No, everything's not alright.”

 

“Anything I can help with?” He’d taken a slight step back as she took a step forward. 

 

“Sure. Absolutely. You can do a lotta things, I’m guessin’. You can start by telling me just what the gosh darn heck is wrong with you?” She was proud of the fact that her voice was calm. She certainly wasn’t feeling it. 

 

“I-I don’t really know-” he began, but she cut him off, holding one finger up to silence him.

 

“Don’t you start that with me. You know what I mean. Where do you get off thinking you can treat these boys this way? What gives you the right to play with their lives, to put them through Hell again and again, and just abandon them? You’ve got Sam thinking he ain’t worthy, and if he don’t feel worthy of the love of God, he sure as heck don’t feel worthy of anyone else’s. You’ve got Dean all kinds of torn up, questioning himself and everything he’s ever done.”

 

“I’m s-”

 

“Did I say I was finished yet?” Donna snapped. He shut his mouth quickly and shook his head. She moved to the refrigerator, then the cabinets, then the stove, gathering all the things she needed to fix the cocoa. She never paused in her attack. “You think because you’re God, you have the right to mess up everyone’s lives? You think you can just create all of this and just abandon it when things get tough? That ain’t how things work. You had a responsibility, to the angels, to humanity, and especially to those two boys, and you ran away from it like a coward. Those boys have died for you, and because of you, and never once did they ask for anything in return. They do your dirty work, they take the hits, they pick up the pieces, and they do it all again. They don’t even ask for a ‘thank you.’. Now, you tell me how you can help, and you best think long and hard before you answer.”

 

He was silent for a long time after she finished. She was pouring the cocoa into two mugs by the time he spoke again. 

 

“I don’t know.” She looked up at him as she picked up the can of whipped cream. 

 

“That the best you got?” She raised a brow and set about topping the drinks. 

 

“I’m sorry. I messed up, I made mistakes. I’m not perfect. I never said I was.” He shrugged slightly, crossing his arms over his chest. She had to admit, he looked like he was being honest, but that didn’t change anything. 

 

“I’m not the one needing an apology. You might want to start acting like you deserve the title you’ve given yourself before you start wavin’ it about in other people’s faces.” With that, she picked up the mugs and left the room. She called over her shoulder as she padded barefoot down the hall, “And clean up my kitchen.”


End file.
